


Control

by Gem_Gem, KittieHill



Series: Kittie And Gem Stories [20]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Butt Slapping, Coming Untouched, Control, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Kissing, M/M, Mild S&M, One Shot, Orgasm, Praise Kink, Spanking, Trust Kink, silliness, they're adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-13 18:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13576833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/pseuds/KittieHill
Summary: Once his forearms were bare, John sat himself in his chair and tensed his fist a few times, warming the cold skin up, speaking firmly towards Sherlock, who was muttering to himself, “Sherlock,” John started, getting his attention immediately. “Come here.”Looking him over, Sherlock obeyed at a steady, smooth swagger, the jittery twitching of his fingers and adjusting of his shoulders easily recognisable by John now. He needed this. They both did.





	Control

John hung up his coat and kicked off his shoes before walking into the living room, listening intently to Sherlock who followed. The case had been a long, arduous one, which had left both men drained and exhausted – but more so Sherlock, who looked pale and jumpy as the adrenaline worked through his veins, keeping him awake.

Taking off his jumper, John carefully laid it over the back of one of the chairs and then unbuttoned and rolled up his shirt sleeves. This was an important part of the ritual. Their ritual. One that often had them in the correct headspace before a single word had been uttered.

Once his forearms were bare, John sat himself in his chair and tensed his fist a few times, warming the cold skin up, speaking firmly towards Sherlock, who was muttering to himself, “ _Sherlock_ ,” John started, getting his attention immediately. “Come here.”

Looking him over, Sherlock obeyed at a steady, smooth swagger, the jittery twitching of his fingers and adjusting of his shoulders easily recognisable by John now. He needed this. They both did.

Without a word, Sherlock began to undress, toeing off his socks shakily, shrugging from his suit jacket, unbuttoning his shirt, and unzipping his trousers. Once he was nude, already half hard and flushed, Sherlock stepped over and, facing John, slipped to straddle his legs, clutching at the chair armrests as he shuffled in place with a sniff and a shaky breath.

“There's a good lad,” John soothed, first taking some time to rub one hand up and down Sherlock's spine whilst the other cupped Sherlock's cheek, and pressed a soft and tender kiss to the corner of Sherlock's mouth.

John knew the rules now. At first, when they had started their encounters, John had made mistakes in trying to kiss Sherlock too often, to bully his tongue into his mouth, but with practice and communication, they had finally fallen into a comfortable routine, which started with light, innocent touches.

Reaching back further, John brought his hands across Sherlock's plush buttocks, simply going back and forth to sensitise the skin, before he raised his left hand for a quick slap that jiggled the skin and fat of Sherlock's bottom. “ _There_ we are, that's all you needed,” John whispered, nosing across Sherlock's smooth cheek. “You just need to get out of your head, don't you?”

With a soft, quiet gasp, Sherlock closed his eyes giving a light nod and tilted his head to have their temples touch, hands still gripping the armrests. It wasn’t often Sherlock spoke during, not unless John told him too. However, he did like John speaking, and always in a low, affectionate, murmuring tone of voice.

John smiled, his right hand now taking up position to give a swat too, and then quickly adding a left and another right slap. All the hits were really quite gentle and not painful, not yet. John always enjoyed bringing Sherlock up slowly as it was far more satisfying. Adding another half a dozen soft slaps, John gave a hard, wallop between both buttocks and started to pick up the pace.

“There we go, there we are. You just needed me to look after you, that's all. You're so clever, and you just need to get out of that big brain for a little bit.”

Whimpering, Sherlock dropped his forehead to John’s shoulder, tensing but not moving. Giving over control to John was almost a need for Sherlock now. He had no one before, no one to take it from him, to ease him to calmness again by taking control and overriding his thoughts, his senses, with words and hands. Sometimes a smack wasn’t even necessary, just a look or a word, or even a firm, stern squeeze of Sherlock’s wrist was enough. It was no wonder Sherlock would shoot the walls, would growl and sneer and pace and look for more, for something else, something to overtake him until he fell unconscious, exhausted and overwhelmed. Since John had found an answer, had taken Sherlock aside and taken control from him, for him, Sherlock had been a lot better, healthier, and unagitated.

John's hand was starting to tingle as he slapped and hit against Sherlock's buttocks, they must be a beautiful shade of pink already (John had once convinced Sherlock to let him set up the mirror so he could watch them turn colour) judging by the heat which was radiating from Sherlock's bum, yet John didn't slow down or even stop, he kept going, ensuring each slap was delivered with only a beat between.

Turning his head into the crook of John’s neck, Sherlock panted open-mouthed against the skin there, keeping remarkably still. John knew that it wouldn’t be long before he’d want to move, to thrust or wriggle, something he had once asked to be able to do, and so John hummed in admiration at the trust and submission Sherlock was still showing. The man grunted in response and then groaned after another dozen slaps, the wet end of his stiffening erection dampening the folded fabric of John’s shirt.

John stilled his hand and stroked up Sherlock's spine, rubbing his thumb against the back of Sherlock's nape and skull as they shared a moment of stillness. Sherlock needed the breaks from the spanking, but John did too, the pins and needles leaving his fingers with the gentle touches. Somehow this always seemed far more intimate than any sexual encounter he had ever had. Even before it had turned into a sexual relationship, being able to provide this for Sherlock, to be able to help him realign himself, had given John an almost orgasmic satisfaction. Being able to see Sherlock so boneless and content was flattering. It was a togetherness that John had never experienced, and he loved every single second.

“Do you want a kiss?” John asked quietly, moving his spare hand down to stroke over the hot, hot heat of Sherlock's bum, “Or are you happy there?”

Sherlock instantly lifted his head, turning to squash their noses together as he pressed his mouth to John’s, “ _Kiss_ ,” he slurred in appreciation and a quick, clumsy nod, languid and soft.

“Thought so,” John chuckled, positioning them correctly then pressing his lips to Sherlock’s for a chaste, almost innocent kiss, that he repeated again and again until he finally opened his mouth and let his tongue sneak out to wet Sherlock's lips. Sometimes Sherlock didn't want to be kissed with tongue, and other times he seemed to desire it more than anything else, so John let him be the boss, and smiled when he felt Sherlock open his mouth to allow John inside.

“ _Clever_ boy,” John whispered, deepening the kiss and bringing his hand down onto Sherlock's bum for a swift whack, one that forced an airy gasp out of Sherlock, directly into his mouth. “There we go.”

Biting down on his own bottom lip, Sherlock clenched his eyes shut in delight and then loosened his jaw to be kissed deep again, moaning breathlessly. He was much more placid and a lot calmer, despite the taut twitching of his rosy cock between them, and he adjusted his hold on the armrests in a happy flex.

“You're _very_ beautiful,” John said against Sherlock's moist lips, nudging his head to one side with a nudge of his nose so he could kiss along Sherlock's neck and up to his ear, where he continued to speak quietly, “You look so gorgeous when you're all flushed and writhing on my knee like that.” He slapped again, twice on the left followed by one on the right to keep Sherlock guessing. “You go _such_ a pretty colour.” He sucked a dark mark into Sherlock's throat, revitalising the faded one from their last session a week before.

Dropping his head back, Sherlock grinned a wonky, yet excessively content grin, and moaned again. John gave him another few smacks, alternating between both sides of Sherlock’s arse, before sharply tapping the middle, much to Sherlock’s satisfaction. It wasn’t unusual for their session to go on for several hours, with timed breaks and affectionate stroking and talking in between, yet it seemed that this one would be short and sweet, as Sherlock was already starting to tremble.

“You were _brilliant_ today,” John moaned, the quivering of Sherlock's legs causing a delicious friction against his lap where Sherlock was hovering. John’s erection was pressing tightly against his jeans, incessant and damp, but he would sort that out once Sherlock was content. Without missing a beat, John began to really hit hard, feeling the pulse in his fingertips as he hit again and again, on the left and right buttock and in between. “Come on, that's it, good lad. Just a bit more and you're done.”

Screwing his eyes closed, Sherlock grunted, whined, and then grit his teeth, before gasping highly at the building pleasure. His chest, neck and face red, tendons raised. He let out a keening mewl of delight in the next second, in a beg for more, and jerked as his cock gave a firm bob and abruptly spurted thick and fast up John’s shirt, reaching as high as his collarbones and drenching him. Sherlock remained unmoving, his hands still on the armrests, head arched back, and while his orgasm pulsed through him, he let out a loud and long, drawn-out groan.

John shushed him calmly, moving his hands from Sherlock's arse in order to prise the strong hands from the armrests and tuck them between their bodies. The warm, wet semen wasn't a pleasant sensation on his clothes, but John ignored it and held Sherlock to his body regardless, wrapping his arms around the man's trembling frame and pulling him in for a cuddle.

“Shhhh, there we are. That's better, isn't it? Hmm?” he smiled as he pressed a kiss to Sherlock's forehead. “Just have a rest, then I'll put some cream on your bum and take you to bed.”

Breathing heavily, Sherlock nestled into John, as close as he possibly could, and gave another few whimpers, “S’better...s’good, John. John... _John_...”

“Hold on, let me just--” John twisted and grabbed the blanket which hung on the back of his chair. He opened it and draped it around Sherlock's body, bringing his arms around as he snuggled into his curls and kissed whatever inch of skin he could reach. “I'm here, it's alright. You just enjoy your high. Just relax.”

“Might sleep here...” he murmured huskily a few minutes later, turning to kiss at John’s throat and jaw, lazy and satisfied. Pushing a loose smirk against the skin of John’s cheek, Sherlock moved to capture his mouth. “I _love_ when you do this...what would I ever do without you?”

John smiled, stroking up and down Sherlock's blanket covered skin, “You'd be shooting the walls and upsetting everyone. You're so much better when you've had this,” John chuckled, enjoying the closeness. “I _love_ that you let me help you.”

Humming, Sherlock kissed him again slowly, deeply, sensually, and then stroked his hands down to begin to unbutton and unzip John’s trousers, “Now, let me _allow_ you to help _yourself_ ,” he murmured with an impish expression.

“You're a _terrible_ man,” John huffed, lifting his hips carefully so not to dislodge Sherlock from his lap as his trousers were pulled down. His cock was stiff and red tipped, leaking plentifully as Sherlock touched and adjust him. “Just lean forward and let me rub against your stomach?”

Cupping and turning his own deflated erection aside, Sherlock shuffled and arched his back, pressing his stomach and torso out for John, eager to please, “You like my abdomen, don’t you?” he asked, still kissing as he spoke. “What do you like the _most_ about me?”

“Does everything count?” John smirked, tilting his head so he could better speak against Sherlock's lips. “I like your _everything_.” The first brush of John's cock against Sherlock's belly made him groan out loud and clench his toes into the carpet, it wouldn't be long before he came, but he wanted to enjoy it as best as he could and so started to slowly roll his hips, pushing himself into the tight muscles of Sherlock's stomach.

Grinning, Sherlock playfully licked up from John’s chin to his nose, “Even my weird long toes? And my gangly legs? - Your words, not mine. Picking fault just because you’re jealous I’m taller,” he said, lazily squirming and drifting a hand up to caress the suprasternal notch of John’s collarbones.

“You _do_ have weird monkey toes,” John admitted breathlessly, “And gangly legs, but I wouldn’t have them any other way. They're _perfect_ because they're yours.” As if to add to his point, John pulled his hands inside the small blanket cavern he had created in order to rub his hands up and down Sherlock's thinly haired legs with a smile. “Your stomach is _perfect_ , especially now I'm feeding you up a bit… your eyes are beautiful... your hair is bloody ridiculously lovely... There isn't a single thing that I don't like...” He groaned as his cock oozed another pulse of precome against the pale skin of Sherlock's stomach.

“What about my willy?” Sherlock asked with a burst of laughter, nuzzling along his cheek to suck on his lobe.

John collapsed into giggles alongside him, letting his head fall back as he laughed, “You're a frigging madman, what sort of a question is _that_ to ask a man who is covered in your jizz?” John asked as he continued to rock his hips, feeling the first stirrings of an orgasm building. “Yes, I _love_ your willy. I like your willy, and your bollocks, and your bumhole too.”

“Bumhole,” Sherlock repeated with a snort of amusement. “You’ve _barely_ seen it. Not often you go looking.” He shifted his attention to John’s arched neck and descended gradually, kissing and then sucking at the skin with a blissful moan. When he’d successfully marked John, he then tipped John’s head back down for another deep kiss. “Not that I’d mind if you _did_...”

“Oh _G_ _od_ ,” John growled, digging his fingers into Sherlock's thigh as he bucked harder. “You want us to have _sex_? Proper sex?”

Stroking a hand up John’s face, Sherlock gave a small nod, eyes lidded, “If you are... amenable?” he whispered.

John choked back on a groan and suddenly came hard, covering Sherlock's body with his ejaculate as his stomach tensed and twitched with climax. After a few long moments, John collapsed back into his chair and sighed, smiling dopily, “I _definitely_ am amenable. Absolutely _yes_.”

Pushing flush against him, uncaring of the mess squished between them, Sherlock kissed and nosed at John’s face and neck, clearly over the moon with the news, “ _Great_ – Does tomorrow work for you?”

“Er… yeah?” John answered, still hazy from his orgasm and reaching up to cup Sherlock's cheek as they kissed. “Will your bum be alright though? I don't want you to hurt yourself if it’s still tender.”

“Well, you have yet to tend to me. To lather my bottom in cream and give it soft pecks,” Sherlock told him in a relaxed mumble. “Once you do that, I’m sure it’ll be just fine. You have the healing touch, after all.”

John smirked and nodded, pushing at Sherlock's hip in an attempt to coax him to move. The overwhelming arousal which had crested during their spanking session was now gone, leaving only a loving and playful mood that John took advantage of as Sherlock stood up on shaky legs. Without warning, he grabbed Sherlock and spun him, pressing lips to the red and warm buttocks, laying soft, gentle kisses on the hot skin. Sherlock winced with a flinch and then relaxed, hands covering John's smaller ones resting on his hips.

Kissing over both buttocks again, John gave a last, loud, comically smacking kiss, and grinned, “Come on, off to bed with you,” he teased, “I don't know if I'll get another stiffy tonight, but getting you to sleep is more important.”

“Debatable,” Sherlock grumbled under his breath but gave a harsh stretch, sending his joints popping while he stepped forward and allowed John to get up from his chair.

John's shirt was still soaked in their combined ejaculate, and so he peeled it from his skin and threw it into the direction of the kitchen, where it landed with a wet slap. Reaching for Sherlock's hand, John lead him towards the bedroom and stripped off his remaining clothes, reaching for the cream on the bedside table. They had ordered it specially for its healing properties and the calming smell of lavender, which always relaxed Sherlock enough to sleep afterwards, plus it gave a nice tingle on the abused skin.

“Come on,” John grumbled, tipping Sherlock onto the bed, watching with a grin as Sherlock bounced and landed on his front with a grunt, “Five minutes and then you can sleep.”

“You can't dictate when I can or cannot sleep,” Sherlock argued. John could see the drooping of the detective's eyes as he valiantly tried and failed to fight against clawing exhaustion.

“Uh-ha,” John agreed, smearing some of the cold cream onto Sherlock's bum and spreading it around with careful touches. He coated the area and spent a few minutes caressing it into the flesh before kissing between Sherlock's shoulder blades and putting the cream back in its home.

Snuggling down beside Sherlock, John wrapped his arm around the man and pulled him in for a sweet embrace, his other hand moving to rest in the dark curls. Curls that he stroked and petted affectionately whilst Sherlock practically purred beside him. “Goodnight,” John sighed, kissing Sherlock's neck and shoulders as he relaxed onto the mattress, “My _clever_ detective.”

 

**Author's Note:**

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